Scoring Position
by kabensi
Summary: Rachel has plans to reward Quinn for a softball victory. Prompted for the FaberryCon Fanfiction Fundraiser by Britt.


It's a warm spring day, the sun's out, and Rachel's pleased to be out of the city and in a Connecticut park.

She watches as Quinn centers herself, leaning forward just a bit, her bare fist punching into the leather softball mitt. She's playing shortstop and it makes Rachel a little nervous, because there's always a chance someone will barrel into her while they're trying to make their base, but Quinn assures her that slow pitch softball isn't all that aggressive.

It's a children's hospital charity game and this is one of the few organized sports that Quinn can play without her back injury flaring up. That doesn't stop Quinn from playing like the true athlete she is. Rachel also isn't complaining that the yellow and white baseball shirt paired with Quinn's faded blue jeans make just the right hybrid of sexy-sporty.

When the current batter knocks a grounder in her direction, she's quick to maneuver in front of it, scoop it up, and throw it to first.

"Yes!" Rachel shouts. Quinn made her leave the glitter covered cardboard sign at home, but that doesn't keep Rachel from cheering.

That end the first half of the inning. Despite Quinn's efforts, her team is behind by two and they need to score or the game is over.

Rachel climbs down from her spot on the bleachers to meet Quinn at the chain link of the team dugout. She leans against the fence, her fingers hooked through the links and, when Quinn approaches, her own hands do the same, fingers looking over Rachel's.

"I feel like we're in a prison movie," Quinn says.

"I'd watch it." It's Erik, one of Quinn's teammates.

Quinn rolls her eyes. "He's just jealous, because his girlfriend... Oh wait, that's right. She doesn't exist."

Erik puts up his hands in surrender and busies himself with a bottled water.

"Do you need more sunscreen?" Rachel asks.

"I'm fine."

"You're a little pink."

"Game's almost over." Quinn leans forward, the bill of her ballcap hitting the fence. She reaches up and flips it around so it's backward. "What do you want to do afterward?"

They have one more afternoon before Rachel has to head back to New York and then it's finals week. Usually, their schedules allow for one of them to get to the other for a night or two at least every couple of days, but it will be almost a week before Quinn can get down to Manhattan.

Rachel considers the question. "Depends on if you win."

"Since when have I been known to lose?" Quinn asks, eyebrow raised.

"I beat you at online Scrabble on Wednesday."

"Once out of three times."

"If you're such a champion, Quinn Fabray, then I guess you don't even have to worry."

"Come here." They kiss, chastely, through the opening of one of the links in the fence.

Rachel climbs back to her seat on the small bleachers and watches as Quinn's team lands someone on first. The next batter strikes out. Erik is up to bat and he sends the ball deep enough into center field to get himself second base while the other runner scores. Quinn's up next. She swings the bat a few times before stepping into the batter's box. The first two pitches aren't any good, the next one is better and Quinn swings at it, but it's a foul. She adjusts her stance and when the next pitch arcs toward her, it's full contact. The ball drives its way down the third base line and she's easily safe on first. When the next player knocks a grounder past the second baseman, Quinn's already halfway to second, then on her way to third, by the time that batter is tagged out at first base. The third base coach seems to be telling Quinn something, because she nods and watches intently as the next player steps up to the plate. It's a line drive that sails past the shortstop and Quinn makes her break for home.

The second her foot hits the plate, Rachel's on her feet, cheering. There are really only about two dozen people in the bleachers with her and none of them are nearly as expresive about their excitement, but Rachel doesn't care. Quinn's success is always a celebratory experience.

Quinn's teammates greet her with high-fives in the dugout and the game's over.

As the teams gather their gear, there's talk of going out for pizza and beer, but Quinn already has her duffel bag slung over her shoulder and she's waving goodbye to her friends as she exits the dugout and heads toward Rachel.

"You sure you don't want to go out?"

Quinn adjusts the bag on her shoulder. "I want to know what I won."

"You won a softball game." Rachel hops down off the final bleacher step and slips her hand into Quinn's.

"And?"

"You benefitted the well being of children in need."

Quinn squeezes Rachel's hand. "And? What are you giving me?"

"I don't think I remember offering a prize."

"You said-"

"I said what we do after the game depended on the outcome of the sporting event." They begin to walk toward Quinn's car. "If you lost, I was going to offer sex as a consolation."

Quinn stops short and Rachel's yanked backward. "Are you telling me I was supposed to lose?"

"Quinn, why on Earth would I want you to lose?" Rachel moves right up into Quinn's personal space and presses her mouth close to Quinn's ear. "Winners get victory sex."

"Oh." Quinn's eyebrow creeps upward. "And, um, when does this victory sex happen?"

"When do you want it to happen?"

Quinn shrugs. "I don't know. Now?"

"In the park?"

"I didn't mean right this immediate second."

"I kind of think you did."

Quinn scopes out the parking lot. They're parked in the far row. "In the car?"

Rachel shakes her head. "Not enough room."

"It was that night after the bowling party."

"I'm trying to be discreet when I say you want me somewhere I can easily get on my knees."

Quinn almost drops her bag.

There's a Starbucks across from the park and there doesn't happen to be a line for the restroom. Rachel has Quinn in tow when she rushes into the bathroom and once they're inside, she immediately twists the deadbolt into place.

Her hands are on Quinn's belt, already, and she's multi-tasking as she shoves her girlfriend up against the door. Quinn's bag hits the floor and she has her hands under the hem of Rachel's t-shirt within seconds. There's a light hiss from Rachel as Quinn's short nails scratch over her lower back.

Rachel presses a hungry kiss to Quinn's lips, teeth tugging at her lower lip. Quinn groans and she's pushing Rachel's shirt upward, but Rachel shakes her head.

"Take these off," she demands, pulling at the now-open fly of Quinn's jeans. The pants aren't even past Quinn's knees when Rachel's fingers press against the already dampening cotton between Quinn's thighs.

"That's... not making this easy," Quinn words are slightly stumbled, probably because Rachel's making little figure eights with her fingertips. The pants make it past at least one ankle and that's enough for what Rachel needs.

"You seemed to manage it just fine," Rachel says, before sucking on a spot of skin just above the collar of Quinn's baseball shirt. When she pulls her mouth away, there's a definite red spot on Quinn's neck.

Rachel lowers herself to her knees, her hands sliding up Quinn's bare thighs. Quinn's fingers are laced in brunette hair as Rachel pushes the panties aside. Before making any contact, she looks up at Quinn to see her girlfriend intently watching her, her face framed by short blonde hair and a yellow baseball cab.

"You look like you're waiting for something."

"Rachel…"

Before Quinn can protest or roll her eyes or even beg, Rachel's tongue is slipping through wet heat. She hears Quinn's head fall back against the door and the fingers in her hair tighten. That drives Rachel to press her face even more tightly against Quinn, the tip of her tongue creating more friction with the loops around Quinn's clit.

She urges one of Quinn's legs up over her shoulder and Quinn has to let go of Rachel's head with her left hand so she can at least try to find some kind of stability by gripping the frame of the door. Rachel knows she's making good progress, because Quinn's hips won't hold still. They're rocking with every swipe of her tongue. She trails a hand up a silky smooth inner thigh and Quinn's so wet, so turned on, that Rachel's two fingers easily slide into her. Quinn groans at the penetration and Rachel moans from the sensation of being inside Quinn, this way.

For every push of her tongue, there's a pull of her fingers, and then the reverse. Quinn can't hold still and her right hand releases its grip on Rachel's head to slap over her own mouth, Rachel knows Quinn's second away from orgasm. Quinn comes with a muffled cry against her hand but Rachel continues with the attention she's giving Quinn's clit and makes another drawn out stroke of her fingers. Quinn's body arches away from the door, both hands over her face as she comes a second time. Rachel finally relents, her cheek resting against Quinn's leg as she, again, watches Quinn's face from her position on the floor. Quinn relaxes, though there's another wave that rolls through her when Rachel removes her fingers.

"You're incredible," Quinn mutters, pulling her cap off and lazily placing it on Rachel's head.

"I know," Rachel replies.

Quinn offers a hand to her to help her to her feet. Rachel takes it and once she's standing, she's being kissed. Quinn's tongue slides over her lips, then past them as Rachel opens her mouth to let her own tongue meet her girlfriend's. The sound she hears from the back of Quinn's throat is the one she always hears when Quinn tastes herself this way. Nimble fingers are groping over her breasts, under her shirt, tweaking Rachel's nipples through her bra. While a moment ago, they were up against the door, her back is now pressed against the sink and Quinn's still-bare thigh slips between Rachel's, under her skirt, putting pressure against her own completely soaked panties. Because the only thing that turns Rachel on more than a solo in front of a full house is getting Quinn Fabray off.

"God, you're so wet," Quinn murmurs against her ear.

Rachel's hands grip Quinn's shoulders while Quinn's arms wrap around her while Rachel's hips rock back and forth, falling into just the right rhythm with push and pull of Quinn's leg pressed against her. Her breathing shifts to heavy pants as her legs begin to shake and as Quinn's teeth scarpe over that spot under her right earlobe she feels that ever so familiar release as she orgasms with her face buried against Quinn's shoulder.

She's still quaking a little when Quinn kisses her forehead and says, "I love you."

Rachel's eyes are closed and she doesn't quite yet have the energy to lift her head, but she does manage, "Love you, too."

There's a knock on the door and Quinn calls out, "Just a moment!" as if she's just washing her hands.

That's enough to motivate Rachel to pull herself upright. "Guess we should get out of here."

"Yeah, I really need a shower."

"Is that your way of saying you want me to get naked with you?"

"Maybe I just want a shower."

"Fine, be naked alone."

"Like you'd ever stand for that."

"Put your pants on so you can drive me home."

Quinn redresses while Rachel washes up at the sink. When they exit the bathroom, there's a short line of people waiting.

"Have a nice day," Quinn says, flashing them what looks like a leftover stock Cheerios smile.

As they walk back across the street toward the parking lot, Quinn asks, "So, if that was the victory sex, what was the consolation sex going to be like?"

"You'll have to let me beat you at Monopoly if you want to find out."


End file.
